Hide the Cutlery
by SkywardShadow
Summary: The time has come to introduce Shisui to Itachi's parents. *Short oneshot, ItaShi, AU*


Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

**A/N: Written for the Great ItaShi Advent Calendar over on LJ's bitter_nakano community. Prompted by the lovely Dustland-Fairytales. Enjoy. xD**

**Hide the Cutlery**

"I just want it said for the record that I _really_ don't think this is a good idea."

"Duly noted," Itachi replied. Despite the dry tone, Shisui noticed that his boyfriend's face looked a tad paler than usual. Nevertheless, Itachi lifted his hand and knocked firmly on the door.

A few seconds passed with agonizing slowness. Both boys were fighting the distinct urge to run like hell.

"We can still turn back," Shisui finally croaked. "I think I'm gonna puke."

"Kindly get a hold of yourself," Itachi hissed. "We are here to introduce you to my parents. We have talked about this. Calm _down_."

"But they already know me!" the older boy all but whimpered. "That's the problem!"

There was no time for Itachi to reply. The door opened, revealing a startlingly young-looking woman who closely resembled her son.

Uchiha Mikoto smiled. "It's good to see you two! Shisui, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

Shisui adopted an expression that was evidently supposed to be a smile, but looked more like the grimace of a person who was being slowly throttled. "H-Hey, Aunt Mikoto," he managed.

To her credit, Itachi's mother didn't even blink. "Come on in, boys," she said cheerfully. "I just made some tea."

They both stepped inside the familiar house. Shisui began to feel very much like a man walking to his own execution. Itachi, always practical, was subtly mapping out possible escape routes whilst fervently hoping they wouldn't prove necessary. Mikoto, still smiling and oblivious to the inner turmoil of the teenagers in her midst, bade them sit down and went to pour the tea.

Itachi picked a chair and sat down stiffly. Shisui began to pace back and forth with increasing anxiety, muttering to himself what rather sounded like a draft of his last will and testament.

"Please relax," Itachi sighed. "You aren't doing yourself any favors by panicking."

"I can't help it!" Shisui moaned. "Have you thought about this, O Prodigal One? _Really_ thought about it? We are about to tell your parents that their wonderful older son is not only gay-"

Itachi made a violent shushing motion and Shisui lowered the volume.

"-but also screwing around with his cousin. As in, family. That cousin would be _me_." He inhaled sharply. "You're their son, so they can't kill you, but they won't have any qualms about doing me in and tossing my body in the river!"

Shisui's hands flew up to grip the sides of his head at his last statement, grabbing fistfuls of curly hair in a viselike grip. Itachi shook his head and stood, crossing the small room in three swift strides. He grabbed Shisui's wrists and gently pulled them back down.

"I'll say it again: You aren't going to help yourself out any by panicking. My parents are going to react how they're going to react, and nothing will change it." Itachi bit his lip briefly. "Do you think I am not just as scared as you are? They are my _parents_."

The words hung in the air for a moment, and Shisui swallowed before wrapping his arms around the boy in front of him.

"You're right, as usual," he managed, the words only slightly muffled by Itachi's shoulder. He pulled back with a shaky laugh. "I just hope you planned ahead and hid the cutlery before we came here. I'm still not putting stabbing me past your dad."

"Just don't give him a reason to," Itachi retorted, pulling the taller boy down for a kiss.

A small, polite cough came from the kitchen entrance.

Itachi and Shisui froze. Slowly, they turned to see Uchihas Mikoto and Fugaku standing in the doorway and staring with equally unreadable expressions.

Shisui took one look at the letter opener resting in his uncle's hand, gulped, dropped to his knees and knocked his forehead to the floor.

"I promise to take good care of your daughter!" he yelled.

At which Mikoto dropped the tea tray, Fugaku's knuckles went white around the letter opener, the idiot on the floor realized his mistake and began to sweat profusely, and Itachi rubbed his forehead in a futile attempt to stave off the oncoming migraine.

It was going to be an interesting evening.


End file.
